Redemption is a Slow Process
by Will-Dannyn
Summary: In order to possibly gain back his life, Keamy is told he must care for one of the caretakers of island. Problem is, she's stuck in a 7-year old's body, a bit pissed, and has some torture techniques of her own to put to use.


I was running. Running for my life through this stupid, never ending jungle, even though I'm pretty sure they gave up on me a mile or so back. I couldn't hear them anymore, and I couldn't feel anymore. They weren't even little tingles on my radar.

I never liked being alone in this place. It got dark too often, and far too quick, and seemed to stay dark forever. Or, at least for a really long time. It didn't help that I forgot my shoes, and wasn't wearing a jacket. Well, I had beenin the infirmary, so… stupid sprained ankle. It wasn't really helping with the running, but I forgot about it easily enough when I saw their guns. Fear for your life helps you to forget the little pains, I've found.

When I saw the darkness of night descending, I swerved into a thicket nearby and hunkered down, breathing heavily and sweating despite the cold around me. At last realizing that no one could monitor my habits anymore, I began to rock back and forth, humming softly to myself as I did so. Ever since I was little, I found that the rocking helps to soothe panic, and humming is a way to distract myself from my own thoughts. Of course, most people just say; _Oh, you do that because you're autistic_. Well, no. But there is a lot people say about autism that seems to be a generalization… and never mind. Don't get me started on this now.

I must've fallen asleep because the next thing I remember is feeling the tiny pinprick of a person. Not close, but heading in my direction. I scooted further back into the thicket, and concentrated on breathing silently. The pinprick became a tingle, and then I knew the person was close because I didn't have to work to tell where they were.

Heavy footsteps preceded the person, and I tried not to peer through the roots of the tree around me. I could tell this person would see, if not hear, the movement. I really didn't want another confrontation today. I really didn't want to hurt another person, either.

"Dammit," I heard a quiet mutter, and knew it was a man. Strong, too, if his tense emotions and control of said emotions said anything about him. Empathy is a good gift for getting inside someone's head without actually using telepathy. And since I don't have telepathy, I can't use it. He cleared his throat. "Um, I know that you're in there," I tensed, "and I, um, I'm supposed to take care of you. Or whatever."

I waited, hoping maybe somebody else was around here that I couldn't feel and he could see. Or something like that, anyway.

"So, I guess I'll just wait." He cleared his throat again, and I could hear him settling himself on leaves.

We stayed there for two days. He went and got things to eat, and put a leaf of berries or whatever outside my thicket. I waited until he went to sleep to eat and quietly do my business. It was nice to be able to know the difference between him actually being asleep and pretending. It comes in handy.

He would tell me that he had patience, but I could feel it slowly wearing down as the hours passed. He didn't talk much, and that was fine, because I liked the silence.

It was on the second day that he gave up. Not on taking care of me, but on waiting. I could hear him growl softly to himself as my head lolled on my knees. My ankle was screaming at me, my head hurt, and I wanted to cry, but the song inside my head helped. A little. Oh, and I was bone tired.

I heard a strange crashing sound, like thunder was trying to burst its way out of the ground, when I felt a hand grab my arm and yank me to my feet. I wasn't quite fast enough to bite back a cry as my full weight fell on my ankle.

"Move." The man didn't seem to notice, or care. He pushed me a little when I didn't obey immediately. I looked up at him. He was huge. I'd seen hulking men with guns before, but this was definitely the tallest. "Move." Like his tone, his next push was a little more forceful.

I placed a hand on his chest as though to push him back and he smirked. Before he crumpled to the ground in pure agony. Which would only last a second because my hand was off him the moment he fell. I took advantage of my grip-free arm and shot out of the thicket as fast as I could with my damn ankle. Unfortunately, it wasn't very fast, and I could hear him getting to his feet a second later.

"You little bitch!" he howled at me, and he was gaining. "I'm gonna take care of you whether you like it or not!" the ground shook as he got closer, and I spun around with my hand outstretched, ready to hurt him more. I was tired of this game.

He slowed to a stop a few feet from me, and looked at my hand warily. Good. I could feel the slightest twinge of fear in him. Even better.

"No." I spit out, hating the way my voice sounded like a child's. Well, I was in the body of a seven year old, so…makes sense. Stupid experiments, stupid Ben. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"Listen, you little brat," he bent his knees to better glare at me in the eyes, "You're going to do what I say or I'm gonna hurt you, got it?"

Well, he's certainly to the point, isn't he?

I opened my mouth to tell him to do something to himself that seven year olds certainly shouldn't know about, nor say, when I felt the telltale weakening in my body. "Shit," I managed to mutter before I fainted. I hate it when I do that.


End file.
